


To Dream of Adventure

by msparx



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen, Magic, Monsters, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 04:35:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12028233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msparx/pseuds/msparx
Summary: Alduin is defeated, but Skyrim is hardly at peace. With the World Eater's return, ancient evils are awakened once again to terrorize the land, and even the mighty Dragonborn is hard-pressed to quell the danger. But perhaps, with the help of a new follower, he can finally restore order to his homeland once and for all.





	To Dream of Adventure

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! This is an idea that I've had for a long time, and I finally got around to trying it out. I only have a vague idea of where I want to go from here, so I welcome any and all thoughts on the matter. As always, read, comment, rate, but overall enjoy! :)
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The Elder Scrolls: Skyrim and all characters portrayed are the rightful property of Bethesda Game Studios and Bethesda Softworks. I make no money from this submission.

Cold was the wind that gusted along Skyrim's southernmost chain of mountains of in the dying light of evening. Blowing east and south, it passed caves and temple ruins, places only the bravest adventurers dared to enter, where nightmares lived and dead things stalked in a cruel parody of life. It whistled through ancient towers, crumbled and decayed, home now only to bandits and highwaymen huddled around meager fires, counting out the day's haul and muttering curses about the wind that knifed through clothing.

 

Down to the very lowest point of Skyrim it blew, and then it stopped. Almost as if hesitating, the wind swirled around the mountain that men called the Lost Tongue Overlook, howling like a thing alive. Disturbed from its sleep, the dragon there opened one baleful eye, cocked its head briefly to glance skyward, before settling back with a snort that blasted flame from its nostrils, unconcerned. As if making up its mind, the wind suddenly veered northward, towards bright, twinkling lights far in the distance.

Whether they lived in the town or were visiting from the surrounding countryside, the people of Riften were used to the warmer weather that predominated this far south, and the sudden wind that keened around shops and vendor carts of the marketplace, still icy from its time in the high reaches, brought shouts and exclamations, with many drawing cloaks tighter and stepping faster towards their destination. Many merchants clapped hands over wares on the verge of lifting toward the heavens and began muttering darkly, only to smile broadly heartbeats later before their potential customers could slip away with their gold intact. The wind raged, beating against the wooden houses as if to tear them away, and angry that it could not do so. However, its efforts went unnoticed by those gathered inside.

Like all nights, the Bee and Barb bustled with activity. Tables packed the wood floor of the common room, and it seemed every seat was taken. Regulars drank and caroused alongside those just visiting from farms or farther off, Nords rubbing shoulders with Argonians, Bretons, Dunmer, Bosmer, Khajiit and Orsimer. Talk and laughter filled the room to the thick rafters overhead, with Keerava, the Argonian innkeeper, presiding from her usual spot behind the counter. Her sharp eyes sought out the first inkling of trouble, whether it was a brawl or some drunken lout trying a little pinch and tickle with one of the serving maids. The scars and callouses on her scaled knuckles were proof enough of her ability to handle anyone who tried to start any.

The Nord who sat at the far wall, however, leaning back against the hard logs, did not laugh. The mug sat in front of him on the table, refilled only once since he'd sat down nearly an hour ago. Several chairs sat around the table, but even those as deep in their drink as was possible while remaining conscious took one look at those hard eyes, nearly hidden by long blond hair, and shuffled off somewhat hurriedly. Talk and revelry faltered whenever gazes swept over the man, before mugs were lifted to mouths to take long pulls at their ale and conversation started again, sounding slightly forced and near to panic.

Thaedan Storm-Wind wore only iron armor tonight, the metal cuirass wrapping around his chest and shoulders, leaving muscled arms bare save for gauntleted forearms. A kilt of animal hides, belted around his waist, hung to his knees, where studded boots covered down to his feet. On his left hip hung a sword scabbarded in plain leather, balanced on the right by an axe. Both shimmered with arcane energy in the light of a lone candle, but it wasn't weapons that drew eyes and fearful whispers. It was the familiarly horned helmet that stood on the table, shrouded in flickering shadows. There had to be hundreds, even thousands just like it all over Skyrim and possibly beyond, but all present knew the man who sat at table there, by sight if not by name. He was, after all, the man who had done the impossible. He had slain Alduin, the World-Eater, for he was the Dragonborn.

He scowled, his eyes glittering like polished amber as they swung between both doors. The windows were almost black now with the approaching evening, and Sapphire had told him that he would be here. It was bad enough being pulled away from more important things for this "personal favor," but if he was just going to waste his time on faulty intel ... He pickup up his mug for a drink, then slammed the pewter back down with a solid _thunk._ Talk around the room ebbed slightly before picking back up again. If the Dragonborn was in a black mood, none wanted to be caught staring.

Just as he was about to give up and leave, the far door opened and four Altmer walked into the noise of the common room. Three were plainly soldiers, with their golden Elven armor clinking as they moved, hands on sword hilts as they eyed the patrons with open sneers. The three ringed the last member, just as plainly _not_ a soldier, or even someone who had ever held a weapon in his life. His red silk coat was richly embroidered with gold and silver scrollwork. Fat gemstones sparkled on his fingers, just peeking out from the sleeves, and more than one set of eyes followed those gleams hungrily. Soft boots made his footsteps almost unheard next to the tromp of his guards. The guards soon had a table cleared, amid curses from the evicted party, and they all sat down with visible grimaces.

Despite himself, Thaedan growled low in his throat, making some of the nearer patrons jump and eye him nervously. Sapphire had told him only of the target, the silk-clad elf. There had been no mention of any guards. The one alone he could handle easily, but those three would surely cause trouble if he just walked right up and made his demands. Their presence changed everything he had planned while waiting. Killing wasn't exactly forbidden as much as it was frowned upon. _It's bad for business,_ as Brynjolf would put it.

He sighed, already imagining the lecture he'd be given, but there was no way around it. He would just have to kill the three and accept any consequences. _Better get this over with before - ._

"Excuse me?"

On the point of rising, focused on the group of High Elves, the sharp, piping voice halted him fast. A hand reflexively reached for its weapon before he identified the source.

Even with him sitting, the girl - an Imperial, given that dark hair and eye - barely stood face to face with him. Maybe no more than fourteen or fifteen years old, she wore a yellow dress that had seen better days, torn and stained so the colors were faded. Her face, framed by shoulder-length black hair, was grimy as well, and a quick glance down saw bare feet under the dress's tattered hem. She seemed to be studying him, eyeing his face intently, before her eyes opened wide.

"It really is you," she breathed, the sound almost swallowed in the ambient noise.

Thaedan fished a Septim from his pouch and tossed it to her indifferently. "Beat it, kid," he said gruffly, rising all the way. On his feet, he towered over her.

She caught the coin awkwardly, juggling it from palm to palm, then frowned at it. "I don't want your money," she said, although her fist closing around it said otherwise.

"All the same," he replied. "Best for you if you get lost." A partial silence had fallen as soon as he'd stood, and all eyes were on him. Including, he was dismayed to see, those of the Altmer. The guards eyed him warily, noting his weapons and armor. The other remained coldly arrogant. Luckily, recognition didn't seem to stir on those faces. Lucky _and_ surprising, given what he'd done at the Thalmor embassy some time back.

"You don't understand." The girl's high voice brought his head back down, brows furrowing. "I've been looking for you!"

"For me?" The Dragonborn raised an eyebrow with something approaching amusement. "If you have a problem, girl, I suggest you handle it on your own. My services aren't free or cheap. Best run home to your mother, before things get ugly here." He started forward, preparing to push through the crowd. He'd lost the element of surprise, but maybe he could -.

"My mother is dead."

Soft as the words were, they halted Thaedan mid stride. He turned back to her, and was shocked to see tears streaming down her face, carving runnels in the dirt caked there. She hastily scrubbed a hand across her eyes, succeeding only in rearranging the grime.

"Both of my parents are dead," she said in that same quiet voice. "And I've been on my own ever since."

Thaedan hesitated, resisting the urge to glance over his shoulder at the Altmer. They were probably still looking at him, and that would almost certainly make them suspicious. That is, if they weren't suspicious already. Growling under his breath, Thaedan sat back down, trying to make the move as casual as possible. Talk around the room hesitantly resumed as he took his seat.

"So," he said, tapping his foot impatiently. "I'm guessing you want revenge on the ones who killed them? Like I said, girl, I don't come cheap."

"They weren't killed," she snapped, then looked embarrassed at her outburst. In a more moderate tone she said, "Mama died of bone break fever last winter, and papa gave up living after. One day I woke up and he was just gone. I've been wandering from town to town since then." Fresh tears shone in her eyes, but she somehow held them back.

"I'm sorry, kid," Thaedan said softly, and he meant it. "But if it isn't revenge, then what do you want with me?" He knew he still had time before the Altmer left, but impatience made his voice sound clipped and harsh.

She continued looking at him with defiance, but more than a touch of awe entered her voice as she said, "Everywhere I went, I heard rumors and stories of you. You have to be the greatest adventurer that's ever lived! That's why I've been looking for you, because...well..." Color stained her cheeks suddenly, but then her voice firmed. "I want to be just like you."

Thaedan resisted the urge to laugh out loud, but a small chuckle still escaped his control. It earned him a dark look from the girl.

"You want to be like me?" He asked, arching an eyebrow in amusement. "You really want to be an adventurer?" At the girl's eager nod, he did give a quiet bark of a laugh. "How old are you, girl?"

"I am eighteen." Her face flushed darker, giving her the lie.

"My advice? Find a different path to follow. This is no life to be taken lightly, especially by a _little_ girl." Thaedan placed special emphasis on 'little.'

If anything, her face darkened even further, but in anger this time. "I'm _not_ a little girl!" She said defensively, betraying her words by pouting. "And I know it's dangerous, but with the Dragonborn to teach me..." She trailed off, leaning forward expectantly as if trying to force her meaning onto him.

Thaedan sighed. It wasn't as if this was the first time someone had asked to journey with him; fools always wanted the glory with no thought of the danger involved. But he'd never expected anyone so _young_. He certainly couldn't take a child into crypts and dungeons to face Talos-knew-what kind of danger. But if he put her off right here, she'd likely cause a scene and arouse suspicion. He opened his mouth, ready to list everything any little girl would want no part of that was so common in his lifestyle.

And then a thought occurred to him, a budding idea that closed his mouth and quirked it into a thin smile.

"All right then," he said. Would it work? She might be able to pull it off. Of course, he might still have to kill the three. "You want to be an adventurer like me? Let's see if you measure up." He nodded towards the group of Altmer, all four studiously ignoring the crowd around them. "See the fool in the silk? In his coat pocket he has a piece of paper. Grab that for me, and I might just consider it."

The girl eyed them once, not with fear he saw, but appraising, weighing. Before he could say anything else, she slipped out of her chair and moved off.

Thaedan watched her weave carefully through the crowd, and he had to give her credit. She avoided any notice, keeping an eye on the quartet without making her movements obvious. The three guards, hunched in their chairs as if to ward off the crowd, never gave her a second glance until she was walking abreast of their table.

And then she made her move.

She suddenly pitched forward, making it seem like someone behind had bumped into her. Her hand caught the pitcher on the table and pushed it right into the silk-clad High Elf's lap, slopping wine all over the expensive fabric. Roaring curses, he bounded to his feet, but the girl kept up with him, feigning shock and incredulity at what she'd done. She brushed at his coat, as if to wipe away the wine, and he almost missed it as her hand darted in and out of the pocket, slipping the folded paper up her sleeve.

"Ignorant peasant!" He roared, shoving her away. He aimed a backhand at her, rings glittering like angry eyes, but she dodged easily, mumbling apologies and backing away. One of the guards reached for her, but she dove back into the crowd and he relented, seeming reluctant to try pushing his way through the throng. Instead, he set about trying to settle his master.

As suddenly as she'd disappeared, she seemed to pop back up at the Dragonborn's table, practically jumping into the chair. She grinned widely, pushing the sheaf across the table to him.

"The direct approach," he said as he picked it up. That was only part of it, but the other could come later. "Not bad really, though you could use a little finesse." He smiled, and for once it touched his eyes. He'd just realized that he had come to a decision about her. "It seems you have some talent after all, if you can learn."

She'd looked crestfallen at his criticism, but at the last she perked up, looking hopeful and disbelieving at the same time. "Does that mean I can go with you?" she asked breathlessly.

"I suppose it does," he replied. It _would_ be dangerous for her, trying to follow a path that could kill even experienced veterans, but she had been right; with him to teach her, she just might survive.

"But your first lesson," he said, smile fading, as a shadow fell across the table. "Will be why you don't stick around after using the direct approach like that." He turned and looked up at the four Altmeri standing over them.

The silk coat was stained beyond hope, but the High Elf didn't seem to notice anymore. Standing behind his guards, with all three sets of hands on weapons, his face was mottled with rage, bright scarlet marring the normally fair skin.

"You, girl," he snapped, spittle flying from his lips. Thaedan he ignored. "I don't take kindly to thieves, and even less to unruly urchins! You will return my property at once!" The common room was suddenly deathly silent.

The girl opened her mouth, but Thaedan forestalled her.

"I'm sorry, sir, but is there a problem here?" He asked with a mock sincerity that apparently went unnoticed.

The Altmer turned his attention to him, eyeing his rough animal hides and iron armor. He sniffed dismissively. "This is no concern of yours, peasant!" He said tightly. "Stay out of this, unless you want the same punishment that awaits her."

"Actually." Thaedan stretched, feigning unconcern at three opponents ready to draw blades. "This girl has just signed herself into my service. I'm teaching her everything she needs to know about the world." He picked the mug up off the table, drinking deeply to let the silence stretch. "Like what happens when you double-cross an organization like the Thieves Guild, Errldormo Athwatch."

The elf flinched, eyes widening briefly before narrowing to slits. "So now you've taken to hiring children to carry out your thuggery?" He sneered. "I'd expected more, even from rabble such as yourselves."

The Dragonborn refused to rise to the bait. "You hired us, Altmer, and we delivered. We expect payment..." He touched the paper on the table. "Or your contract is voided, and all valuables are property of the Guild."

"You won't get a Septim out of me, worm!" The elf said acidly. "Guards! Kill - !"

He got no further.

" _Fus!"_ Thaedan cried. Energy and force rippled from his mouth, washing over the three guards. As they staggered backward, he was on his feet, sword flashing as it left his scabbard, and gasps echoed around the room as light glittered not off of steel, but dragonbone. The first guard gurgled as he died, his throat a bloody ruin, and a second quickly followed with his gut opened under the ribs. Where the blade struck, the skin sizzled and burned with heat, metal armor parted as easily as flesh.

The last managed to claw his sword free, swinging desperately, but Thaedan stepped inside the blow, grabbing his arm with his left hand. The soldier screamed as lightning arced across his body, before the Dragonborn let him fall in a ragged heap, eyes staring, smoke curling from under his armor. Start to finish, mere moments had passed. Moments, and three dead.

Errldormo stumbled backward, face bloodless, mouth working soundlessly. Thaedan kicked him savagely in the chest, and he went down, crashing into a nearby table.

"P-p-lease!" He whimpered, crawling back on hands and feet. "I have g-gold. Take it, take it all! Just - just please don't kill me!"

Thaedan planted a boot on Errldormo's chest, forcing him down and pinning him to the floor. His sword was suddenly inches from his face. In his hands, the blade seemed to blaze, warping the air with incredible heat.

"This is about more than gold, elf." The Dragonborn's voice was steel wrapped in ice, yet strangely calm for someone who'd just killed three men. "You don't cross the Thieves Guild. Ever. Let this be a reminder of that lesson."

Errldormo screamed as the point of the sword dug into his left cheek, twisting cruelly. The skin blistered from the contact before it was pulled back. The elf's pained shrieks were the only sound in the common room. Every eye was on him, but no one made a move to intervene. Even Keerava stood still, nervously dry-washing her hands behind the bar counter.

As calmly as if he hadn't just murdered three people and maimed another, Thaedan sheathed his sword. The heat seemed to vanish from the blade before it touched the scabbard, and it was just an ordinary sword, if one made from the bones of a dragon.

"Sorry about the mess, Keerava," he said simply. He produced a small coin pouch and tossed it to the table. It clinked metalically as it bounced on the wooden surface. In the same motion, he held his palm outstretched and it began to glow a deep orange. His helmet suddenly leapt from the table and into his waiting hand. He placed it on his head and strode away, gesturing curtly for the girl to follow. The wind howled as the door was open long enough for the two to walk out, then they were gone into approaching night.

Sapphire appeared beside Thaedan almost as soon as the door closed behind him, seeming to materialize from the deeper shadows, hair streaming in the wind.

"It's done?" She asked, making the words both a question and a demand.

"He was guarded, Sapphire." Thaedan handed her the paper. "I had to kill them to get to Errldormo."

"Brynjolf isn't gonna like that," she sighed. The Dragonborn merely grunted, turned, and walked away with the girl scurrying to keep up. From the corner of his eye, he saw the woman turn and walk just as matter-of-factly the other way.

They'd nearly made it to Riften's huge wooden gates before the girl spoke, her voice somewhat weak and tinged with awe.

"That was the Voice, wasn't it?" She barely waited for Thaedan's grunt and nod before bursting out. "That was amazing! Can you teach me to do that, too?"

Thaedan snorted loudly as he led the way out of the gates. "Girl, the Voice isn't something I studied. It just came to me. It's natural, instinct. I can't teach you something like that."

"Oh," she said, crestfallen. An instant later she perked up again. "But you know the Greybeards, right? They could teach me."

Thaedan winced as he walked along the night-shrouded path. He didn't stop at the stables, but merely continued on. "I would," he said finally. "If they held anything except hatred for me. I think they'd kill me, if they could bring themselves to do it, but any follower of mine is an enemy of theirs."

The girl frowned. "But why? Didn't they teach you? I thought they were your friends."

"They were," Thaedan agreed. "But then I killed their grandmaster."

The Dragonborn walked a few steps before he realized that the girl had stopped in the middle of the path. He stopped himself and turned to face her. They had come some distance from Riften's walls, and the muted glow from inside was just visible over the top. In the deepening darkness, it gave poor illumination, but he could still see her clearly enough.

"You killed a Greybeard?" She asked in horror.

"Not a Greybeard," Thaedan replied. "Paarthurnax was a dragon." Seeing her confused look, he decided to explain. "Paarthurnax was second-in-command during the Dragon War, but turned against his kind after witnessing Alduin's ruthless nature. He himself helped to banish the World-Eater, after which he lived in exile at the Throat of the World. He became the Greybeard's grandmaster, and taught them the Way of the Voice. He eventually helped me defeat Alduin once and for all."

"And - and you - _killed_ him?" She asked haltingly. "Why?"

Thaedan shrugged. "The Blades found out, and I was given a choice: let Paarthurnax live and lose their support, or kill him and be part of the Blades' rebuilding. The Greybeard's had been good to me, but I grew beyond them. The Blades could still be useful, though. So I made my decision."

He saw the creeping doubt on her face, knew she must be weighing her decision to follow him.

"Your second lesson tonight," he said, letting his voice become harsh; if she was going to lose her nerve, he'd prefer she did it now. "Adventurers have to make hard choices, and sometimes those choices get people killed. Make your choice, then bury it, and leave it in the past where it belongs."

The silence stretched for long heartbeats while Thaedan watched the struggle on her face as she processed what he'd said. Clearly, she didn't like that, but if she truly wanted to be like him, she would have to make her peace with it. A wry smile touched the Dragonborn's lips as he recalled the time when he himself had started on this path, when he'd been just as naive as she was now. The smile widened. She would learn. Talos willing, she would learn. She'd have to.

Finally, she took a dragging step forward, and then another, and then another. The struggle was still there, but for the time at least, her desire for adventure seemed to outweigh her reluctance. She stood before him and drew herself up, although she still barely came to his middle.

"So," she said, her voice cracking slightly. Whether it was from fear or excitement, however, Thaedan couldn't tell. "Where to first."

"Home," he replied, before raising his hand to his face. Putting fingers in his mouth, he whistled shrilly three times before letting his hand fall again. Seeing her look up at him questioningly, he said, "They don't like it when he comes too close to the town."

Before she could ask who he meant, a sharp whinny split the night air. A patch of shadows began to move, and suddenly resolved into an enormous horse. She gasped when it stepped into the night, dead black, with deeper shadows seeming to twist and curl around it. When it stared at her with one large, blood-red eye that seemed to gather the little light and glow, she took an involuntary step backwards.

Thaedan showed no such trepidation, stepping up to stroke the the creature's nose, earning a soft whicker in response.

"Hello Shadowmere," he said warmly. He looked back at her as it nuzzled his palm. "He's an old friend, given to me by the Dark Brotherhood." He swung easily into the saddle, then leaned down to offer his hand. "Don't be afraid of him, uh..." He hesitated, then barked a laugh. "I suppose I can't keep calling you 'girl,' can I? What's your name?"

"Adranee," she said, still eyeing the horse uneasily. After a moment's hesitation, she took his proferred hand and lett him pull her up behind him. "My name is Adranee Conevius."

"Well then, Adranee," Thaedan said, reining Shadowmere around. "Let's go, shall we?"

He booted the shadowy mount forward, and the pair rode into the shadows of night.

 

**To Be Continued**


End file.
